A Supernatural Christmas Carol
by eriddle46
Summary: Dean is visited by a "ghost" who shows the three very different Christmas futures of Sam, Castiel and Dean himself.


**"I wear the chain I forged in life… I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it." – Charles Dickens, ****_A Christmas Carol_**

The night sky was empty of even the stars. So empty, the snow could only be seen as it drifted carefully close to the frosted street lamps. Dean Winchester leaned back in the front seat of his Impala, observing the yellow-and-purple house at the street corner. He believed it to be haunted, so he was watching, waiting and making sure the family stayed safe.

Inside the house, a thick Douglas fir glistened and sparkled with white light that glittered off red and gold ornaments. This was not the way Dean wanted to spend Christmas Eve – outside in the cold with nothing but the faint whispers of Christmas carols coming from the Impala's radio.

_You can plan on me_

_Jack Frost nipping at your nose_

_Baby, it's cold outside_

And watch another family be together when his could not be. Because Sam couldn't let what happened with Ezekiel go, and Cas, well, Cas was like that tall light at the end of the street. It was the brightest, almost too bright, when it was on, but it never managed to stay lit long enough for Dean to find his way by its glow.

Dean's eyes began to feel heavy. He'd been up for twenty hours straight, and the monotony of sitting in the Impala had begun to wear on him. He yawned. Against his will, the dark hands of sleep were pulling him away from that quiet street on that empty winter's night.

###

He awoke with a start. Dean cursed himself for falling asleep and then looked to the house he'd been staking out. It appeared just as quiet and peaceful as ever. He looked to his right and gasped. What Dean saw at that moment he could scarcely believe.

"Dad?" Dean's voice trembled.

"Merry Christmas, son."

His father had a bluish-grey tint to his skin and round him glowed a strange, unnerving light.

"You can't be here. You're not a-"

"A ghost? No. I'm not."

"Then, what are you?" Dean was thinking about the shotgun loaded with rock salt in his backseat and how he could get to it.

"I'm a part of you, Dean. A reflection," he said smoothly. "An image, a ripple of your soul."

Dean sighed, forgetting the gun. "So you're not real?" He wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. On one hand no evil Dad-look-a-like to gank. On the other hand, he could be going crazy. Like Sam and Lucifer crazy.

"I'm real. I'm as real as joy and fear and hope and, yes, even love."

"You're an emotion."

"An expression. Of humanity. Of your humanity, Dean."

"This is nuts. You know that. I'm nuts"

The ghost-Dad-thing shook his head. "I have something I need to show you."

"What if I don't want to see it?"

"I'm here, son, because you need to see it."

A glowing blue hand fell on Dean's shoulder. Something gripped tight and sharp near his heart and he was torn away from the Impala, from that street, on that very unusual night.

###

"Sam?"

That was the first thing Dean Winchester noticed and the first thing he said when he and Ghost-Dad arrived. His brother Sam, sitting on the floor by a Christmas tree.

"Sam. Hello! Sam, listen up!" Dean shouted, waving his arms.

"He can't hear you."

Dean was in no house he'd seen before. It had big windows, garland everywhere, and it smelled like spiced pecans. Sam was on the floor, his fingers fussing with the lights on the Christmas tree.

"Amelia, can you bring me an extra bulb?"

"Sure."

A brown-haired girl who looked smart and funny and like she didn't take any crap sauntered into the living room where they were all standing. While handing Sam the spare light bulb, Amelia stole a kiss.

"Where are we?"

"In a different life, Dean. One you prevented from ever happening."

"Well, excuse me, if I ruined Sam's Christmas caroling plan by fighting my way back from purgatory."

"Dean."

"We have work to do. _Things _to accomplish. People to save. It's the family business." Dean turned to the image of his father. "_Your _business."

"See where that business landed me?"

"But you're not you."

"No. I guess, I'm not.

Dean glanced again to the scene before him. Sam was working on the tree, and suddenly leaned back on his hands with a great sigh.

"What is it?" Amelia asked.

"Nothing."

"Is it about your brother?'

Sam shrugged. "We just never had Christmases like this. We really never had Christmas at all. I just wish . . . I wish he could have known what it was like to feel like this. To be loved, the way you love me."

Amelia sat down on the floor beside Sam and leaned on his shoulder. "I know, but you know what? Our kids will always have Christmases like this with cookies and trees and Frosty the Snowman."

"If I can even have kids, after everything I've been through." He must have meant coming back to life all those times, housing Lucifer in his body and almost dying with the whole Ezekiel fiasco.

But Dean was surprised that it seemed Sam had told Amelia everything. He was even more shocked that she didn't seem to care, at least at some point she'd found a way to get past it.

"Sam," she said carefully.

"Yes?"

Amelia smiled. "We're having a baby."

Sam grinned as widely as Dean had ever seen and kissed Amelia gently on the lips. "That's wonderful."

Dean looked away, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Are we done now? I really can't bear anymore of this Lifetime movie."

Sam would have had a baby, a son or a daughter of his own, had he not – no. This was crazy. Dean couldn't think like that. He did what he thought was best. That's all he could do.

"If you had never returned from purgatory, or had given Sam a choice when you did, he would have had a chance to escape the life/ Because you see Dean, you were wrong about Sam. There was always a light at the end of his tunnel, and it was only you that stood in the way."

"You're nothing but a figment of my imagination. A dream, and I'm done. I'm waking up."

"Not yet."

Ghost-Dad touched his shoulder and once again they were torn away and tossed to somewhere else entirely.

"Where are we now, Father Casper?"

"Your future."

"Now I know it's a dream. Time travel is not that easy unless you're an angel, and the angels don't have that kind of juice anymore."

"Once again, Dean, you lack imagination. This, like myself, is a projection. But this one's of your future."

Dean stood out front of a run-down trailer. It was surrounded by feet of barbed wire and blocked by a trench. Keep-out signs were posted all over the front lawn, as well as Devil's traps and Enochian warding spells.

"Where am I now?" Dean asked. "Kevin's?"

Ghost-Dad shook his head. "No. You're home."

Dean followed Ghost-Dad through the front door. He inhaled sharply at what he saw. Bars lined the windows and beer bottles and cans littered the floor. There was an arsenal of weapons and even more devil's traps and hex bags and salt. There was salt everywhere.

Then, Dean saw himself, sitting alone on a couch, a bottle of jack in one hand and cigarette in the other.

"I don't smoke," Dean said.

"You will," his fake father replied.

Future Dean had lost most of present Dean's good looks. He had tanned leathery wrinkled skin and his hands and arms were deeply scarred. But the worst were his eyes. They stared out toward the door, as distant and empty as that sky back on the street with the purple-and-yellow house had been.

"This is crazy. I wouldn't be. What am I doing? I should be hunting."

"You didn't like it," Ghost-Dad said. "Hunting alone. It got to you – and you became paranoid."

"I lived in hell and purgatory. I faced down the leviathans and the apocalypse. I think I could handle."

"Did you do any of that alone?"

Dean swallowed. No, of course he hadn't, which was the point. It was why he had fought so hard to keep his father and Bobby and Cas and Sam, especially Sam, alive. It was the reason he did everything because he could stop the evil out there if he had Sam by his side. He just had to keep Sam.

"Exactly, which is why Sam needs to understand why I did what I did with Ezekiel. Because he needed to live, because we needed to fight the monsters."

"Don't you hear yourself? All you can talk about is how you need Sam. What about what he needs? What he wants?"

"No. No. Don't start this with me. You raised us to be hunters. You taught us to always do what's right, to never give up. We don't walk away from the life. We never walk away. We're Winchesters. It's our duty."

Dean looked over at his future self, who was drinking straight from the bottle, and muttering to himself. Dean couldn't make out the words.

"Dean, this your future unless-"

"Unless, I can get Sam to forgive me. I get that. Why don't you take your crazy train over to him, will ya?"

"This is pathetic." Dean scoffed. "I'm pathetic. Let's get out of here."

"Okay."

Ghost-Dad touched Dean again, and they were gone. They were back in front of that yellow-and-purple house again.

"Thank God." Dean sighed. "I get it. I'll go back to Sam and apologize and he'll forgive me and everything will be fine."

"Didn't you see what I first showed you? Your brother's happiness."

"Yeah, but Amelia's long gone. Sam can't have that anymore and I'm sorry, but that's the way it is." Dean eyed his creepy Ghost-Dad. "You gonna go now?"

"We're not done."

"You took me back?"

"Follow me."

Dean reluctantly obeyed, moving up the sidewalk and the front drive to the door. The lights were all on inside, and Dean could hear music playing loudly. They stepped inside and it appeared the family was having a large Christmas party. There were platters of food and drink everywhere and people dancing and laughing.

"Why are we snooping in these people's house?"

"Because it's not their house anymore," Ghost-Dad said. "Look, by the fireplace."

Dean rolled his eyes, but looked toward the glow of the fire. His stomach dropped. _Cas?_

Cas was laughing and dressed differently than he'd ever seen him. He wore nice jeans, shiny black shoes, a white shirt with rolled up sleeves and a dark green tie tucked into a grey wool vest. He had a glass of wine in his hand and was laughing at something a lady in a gold dress had said.

"What's going on?"

"This is Castiel's future."

"He looks like he's doing great. Two points for me." Dean tried to sound nonchalant, but he could taste the falseness on his tongue. Something about this scene made him shaky.

"Yes, Cas, does well after you left him in Idaho and told him to live a normal life. He's an ace at customer service, moves out of the gas station and into a hotel, soon enough he's the manager of that hotel. He makes some good investments and opens a hotel of his own with a five-star restaurant. Then he buys this house. The dude's rich, Dean."

Dean took another look around the house, and it did feel _rich _but it didn't necessarily feel like Cas. It kind of looked like a showroom in a furniture store.

"I have to go over there."

"He won't see you."

Dean moves his way through the crowd without anyone noticing. He stops just feet in front of Cas who never looks in his direction.

"We found a man the other day," Cas said. "Somehow got himself locked naked in the closet. The maids heard him banging on the wall and sobbing."

A group of nearby people laughed. It was strange to see Cas like this. He'd really taken this whole humanity thing and made it work for him.

"I get why you showed me the last two things, but I don't get this," Dean said to Ghost-Dad. "What does this have to do with getting Sam to forgive me?"

Ghost-Dad sighed. "Dean, oh Dean, you're missing the point. You've always missed the point."

Suddenly, the party guests dissolved away. Dean tensed. It was just Cas, all alone in his house with its expensive but somehow sad furniture.

"Look at him," said Ghost-Dad. "Look at the best friend you've ever had, at the person who took a faithless skeptic and turned him into a praying man, a righteous man. Look at him, you know him better than anyone, and tell me does he look truly happy to you?"

Dean swallowed, his heart beating faster. Cas's lips were turned into a small frown and his eyes, well despite the beautiful surroundings, up close they looked just as lost and distant as future Dean's did. Cas turned and walked into the kitchen.

"Follow him."

Dean already was.

Cas pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, ran his fingers over the screen and a few moments later music began to play from the speakers.

_I'll be home for Christmas_

Cas set the oven for 350 degrees.

_You can plan on me_

He pulled a glass dish out of the cabinet and sprinkled it with flour.

_Please have snow and mistletoe_

Casopened the refrigerator and pulled out a red box.

_And presents on the tree._

He opened it up and unrolled a circle of dough. He laid it slowly over a glass pie pain.

_Christmas Eve will find me._

Holding a peeler, his hands slid around the apples, the skins peeling away and dropping into the stainless steel sink.

_Where the love light gleams._

Cas mixed the apples with some other ingredients, cinnamon and nutmeg and sugar and butter. Then he poured the mixture into the pie crust.

_I'll be home for Christmas._

He cut the top crust into even strips and laid them with careful precision over the top of the apple mixture. When he was done, he slipped the pie into the oven.

_If only in my dreams._

The time shifted again, slow and hot, like it melted around Dean.

Cas pulled the pie out of the oven. Dean could smell it – it was perfect.

"He's done this every Christmas for the past ten years," whispered Ghost-Dad. "Castiel has the perfect mortal life, and yet every year."

Cas opened the window, letting in the cold air. Sparkles of snow fell on the windowsill where he sat the pie.

_Every year he waits for me to come back to him._

"I don't understand, Dad."

"Yes, you do."

Maybe he did.

Dean stumbled back slightly. "I needed to let them choose."

Dad smiled. "But you were afraid if you let them choose, they'd all choose to leave you or they'd choose you and they'd be wrong. The responsibilities carried, the burdens, you gave them to yourself. They were never yours to bear."

Dean looked toward his father, who despite the glow looked like the man who had raised him in every other possible way. "You're real, aren't you? This isn't just in my head. You're my dad."

"I am, but I'm not John Winchester."

Dean's eyes widened, he tripped back. Realization slammed across his mind, leaving white stripes across his vision. Was this? It couldn't be, but it was. When he looked at him, he knew it was. Just knew. Like he knew how to breathe, how to make his heart beat.

"You're?"

"Yes, Dean."

There were a million things Dean should have said in that moment, a million things he could have asked or yelled at God for, but it all seemed to fall flat in his presence. In that way God looked at him, like he loved him, like no matter what Dean failed or accomplished he would not be loved more or loved less. Just _loved. _

"You're meant to be a hunter, Dean. You want to die with a gun in your hand, you're a warrior. _My _warrior, and I have always been there, every step and every second, even when you couldn't see me. I've always given you what you needed, even when you hated and blamed me. Because you're my family, Dean, my _family _and yes you were always meant to be a hunter, and Cas was always meant to fight at your side. It was always meant to be the two of you. Until the end . . . and maybe even then."

Dean paused. "And Sam?"

God smiled. "And Sam was meant to be happy. Let him be happy."

Dean's head was spinning. "Dad?"

"Yes, Dean." The way He said "Yes, Dean" it was just how Cas said "Hello, Dean."

"Take me to Sam."

God's hand fell against Dean's and he was pulled away from the future that Dean prayed he could change.

###

When Dean opened his eyes, he was in front of the bunker, the sun was coming up and God was gone. Well, Dean couldn't see Him anymore, but He didn't feel _gone. _It was hard to explain.

With a burst of energy, Dean bolted toward the door, throwing it open. At least he could still get inside.

"Dean!" Sam jumped up from the table where he was reading. "What are you doing here?"

A part of Dean wanted to tell Sam about God and about everything, but it didn't matter.

"Quit."

"What?"

"Quit hunting. Quit."

"I can't."

"You can."

"Maybe someday."

"That light at the end of the tunnel. It's here right now." Dean hugged Sam who stiffened but Dean didn't care. "Merry Christmas, Sammy."

"Are you alright?"

Dean calmed down and said as sincerely as possible. "You're done. You can go now. If that's what you want, go and I'll call you and I'll see you around. Get married and have kids and be happy. You're meant to be happy."

"I can't just leave you alone. I know we're in a fight, but."

"But that's just it, Sam. I'm not alone. I'm not."

Sam furrowed his brow. "Cas?"

Dean grinned. "Cas."

Dean borrowed one of the cars from the bunker's garage and bolted down the highway to Idaho as fast as he could. He burned rubber into the Stop-and-Go parking lot. It was Christmas morning, and Cas was already there. Through the window, Dean could see him sorting packaged fruit pies. Dean chuckled to himself and pushed the door open.

"Merry Christmas," Dean said.

Cas dropped the pie in his hands and spun around. "Dean!"

"Do you want to hunt with me?"

Cas sighed. "I can't. I have to work."

"I'm not asking you to go on a hunt with me. I'm asking you, if you want, to _hunt _with me. If this is the life you want, I'll understand. I'll respect that and go, but if not, we'll get the Impala and we'll go on the road and we'll gank some evil sons-of"

"Yes," Cas shouted. He tore off his blue vest and tossed it on the counter. He smiled at Dean. Dean smiled back and it was Christmas and it was the beginning of something different. Of something better.

Together Dean and Cas drove back to that yellow-and-purple house, got the Impala and drove toward the first evil thing they could find. And Dean thought of something he heard his father read to him in a story long, long ago. It had once seemed trite and silly and now it just seemed true. Important.

_God bless us, Every One._

**Authors Note: Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays etc. I know it's a bit early, but I just had this idea and really wanted to share it. Let me know what you think. Thanks!**


End file.
